


Kozmotis Forgot Something

by Karen_DuLay



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce
Genre: Drabble, Dream Pirates, Gen, Golden Age, Headcanon, Inspired by a tumblr thing, Oneshot, no pants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:12:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karen_DuLay/pseuds/Karen_DuLay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long day of working, General Kozmotis Pitchiner wants nothing more than to sleep. But a surprise attack by Dream Pirates prevents that, and...why is Commander Isaac Hawthorne laughing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kozmotis Forgot Something

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was on tumblr, and I saw this plushie of Kozmotis. His pants were white, but I couldn't distinguish them from his skin color, so I asked, "Where are his pants?!" And eventually, this became a thing in my head. Figured I'd share it with the world! Be warned, this includes bits of my own headcanon, including Dream Pirates being counterpoints to Star Pilots, and made of black sand (which later comes under Pitch's control!).
> 
> Also: http://generalpitchiner.tumblr.com/ is amazing. Check them out. GO. NOW. YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT. ((Where I found the plushie post in the first place))

Being the leader of an army is a very tiring task. You have to always know what you’re doing, or at least convince others you know what you’re doing, because at the slightest hint of doubt, people who’ve trusted you with their lives countless times before will suddenly lose faith. There’s the ever-present need to worry about your subordinates’ well-being. Paperwork features prominently into things, because you have to be constantly appraised of what’s going on, or you risk making a mistake.

 

All those factors make sleep a luxury. Kozmotis Pitchiner knew that better than anyone. He sat in his quarters late one evening – he thought it was evening, it could be hard to determine time in space – with a desk full of paperwork, a cup of tea, and not enough energy to so much as lift his pen. His head rested on one hand and dipped towards his chest once, twice…

 

The room suddenly lurched around him. Dizzied, Kozmotis spilled out of his chair onto the floor. His inkwell tipped over and rolled off the table, leaving a thick trail of black ink in its wake, rendering several supply reports unreadable. For a moment Kozmotis simply lay there, gathering his thoughts and trying to make sense of the situation.

 

_An attack?_

 

Shouts from outside seemed to confirm his suspicion, and Kozmotis scrambled to his feet. He burst out the door of his room, pausing only for his scythe, to see no-one in the corridor. More shouts came from his left, and the distinct phrase, “Dream pirates!”

 

His feet moved on their own. Kozmotis was around the corner in a moment, his scythe readied. A group of Dream Pirates, he didn’t bother to count their number, was engaging three of his crewmen. The soldiers were badly outnumbered and quickly losing ground.

 

Kozmotis’ scythe came down on the nearest Dream Pirate. The Pirate dissolved into black sand, his body unable to retain its shape after contact with the star-metal. Their comrade’s demise alerted the other Pirates to Kozmotis’ presence, and several of them turned to deal with the new threat. He could see his crewmen just beyond the Pirates, fighting with grim determination, barely registering his presence as they finally stood firm against the Pirates.

 

It was simple for Kozmotis to cut down the first two Pirates. They weren’t aware who they were dealing with: they didn’t know that his scythe could destroy them with just a touch. But the last Pirate had seen his comrades dissolve. He realized just how dangerous Kozmotis was, and changed tactics accordingly. Instead of taking blows and attacking while Kozmotis’ weapon was occupied, the Dream Pirate wove and dodged the scythe’s blows, reshaping his body to avoid any contact with the star-metal. Behind him, the other Pirates stood their ground against Kozmotis’ crewmen.

 

But any hope the Dream Pirates had of drawing the battle out and tiring their opponents shattered as a gray blur flew over Kozmotis’ head. “Take that, ya shitheads!” The blur landed in the midst of the Pirates and lashed out with a fist. A Dream Pirate fell back against the wall, black sand leaking from his body. Another blow finalized the disintegration, and more black sand littered the floor.

 

“Oi, Kozzy! What’s goin’ on?” A Pooka over seven feet tall stood in the middle of the Dream Pirates. His left eye was covered by a bandage, but this didn’t seem to affect his awareness of everything to the left, as the Pooka casually backhanded a Dream Pirate. “Where’d all these Dream Pirates come from?”

 

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” Kozmotis shouted. His opponent had been distracted by the Pooka’s arrival, and Kozmotis had taken the chance to slice him in half. Another Dream Pirate took the chance to attack Kozmotis while the scythe was extended away from his body. It was pure luck, in Kozmotis’ opinion, that he had managed to block the blow.

 

“Oh. Okay,” the Pooka shrugged. His hands shot out and grasped the heads of Dream Pirates on either side, then slammed the sand-creatures against the walls. They crumbled under the pressure and did not re-form.

 

“Perhaps a little help, Jericho?” Kozmotis ground his teeth in frustration as he tried to bring his scythe’s blade closer to his body. The Pooka was right behind Kozmotis’ Dream Pirate opponent, but his attention seemed to be elsewhere.

 

“Nah, these guys need me more,” Jericho jerked a thumb over his shoulder. He rounded on the rest of the Dream Pirates. “WHO WANTS SOME?!”

 

Kozmotis very nearly yelled at his friend, but he was interrupted by the discovery of _why_ Jericho didn’t think the general needed help. An arrow flew right past Kozmotis’ ear (he literally felt it brush his skin) and embedded itself into the Dream Pirate’s shoulder. For a second, the Dream Pirate looked amused. Then he dissolved into black sand, the star-metal tip of the arrow having the same effect as Kozmotis’ scythe.

 

After he recovered from the surprise, Kozmotis whirled around. A redheaded man with a scruffy beard stood behind him, already aiming his next arrow. “Duck,” the man advised. Kozmotis wasted no time with complying. Had he not, the next arrow would have hit him in the heart. Instead it found a home in the back of another Dream Pirate, one that had been about to deliver a killing blow to a crewman.

 

“Isaac!” Kozmotis yelped. “Be more careful!”

 

“Why? It’d be your own bloody fault if you got hit by friendly fire,” Isaac shrugged. He let off two more arrows in rapid succession, then glared at Jericho’s back. “Bloody Pooka. I can’t take a shot without hitting him.”

 

“Didn’t know you cared!” Jericho tossed a Dream Pirate onto the waiting blade of a crewman. “Heh, nice teamwork.”

 

“It’s not that I care, it’s that I’d rather not piss you off.” Isaac winced as Jericho slammed another Dream Pirate’s head against the wall. “Bit worried something like that might happen to me.”

 

Kozmotis sighed and rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t remember if he’d had a headache before, but he certainly had one now. “Commander, do you know the status of the ship? How did the Dream Pirates manage to get on board?”

 

“Asteroid field, sir,” Isaac replied. “They were lying in wait. We didn’t notice them up because we were expecting anomalies on the readings from the fucking space rocks.”

 

“Right,” Kozmotis nodded. “This couldn’t have been the only group to get aboard. Where else are they?”

 

“Far as I know? Some in the engines, maybe a couple left on the bridge,” Isaac answered. He took a quick shot at a Dream Pirate and missed. “Fuck! Anyways, isn’t there something you should do before running off to the bridge?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Kozmotis frowned. Isaac’s eyes flickered down. When that didn’t help, the commander sighed.

 

“Pants, sir,” he pointed. Kozmotis looked down.

 

…Right. He’d taken his pants off to relax better. 

 

“I’ll…be at the bridge in ten minutes,” he informed Isaac. As he turned to run back to his room, he could have sworn he heard that asshole chuckle.


End file.
